Bet with Destiny
by Tuathail
Summary: Kel is an assassin after being adopted by the Rogue at a young age. However, with betrayal, plots and confused loyalties afoot, can Kel truly keep both her head and her name? Possible KelRoald
1. Prologue

**Bet with Destiny**

**Summary:** Kel is adopted into the Rogue after being separated from her family as a small child. Now, she is a renowned assassin who knows what she needs to do and does it well. However, with betrayal, plots and confused loyalties afoot, can Kel truly keep both her head and her name? Unrealistic!Kel/Roald

)O(

When Dashiel Binder, king of the lower city, went for a walk in the dark of the night, he expected an assassination attempt, or a rich merchant to steal from. What he did _not_ expect was for a three-year-old girl to literally drop out of the sky and fall into his arms. As luck would have it, that was exactly what happened.

Getting over the surprise, he gently put the girl on the ground and steadied her until she stood on her own two feet. Then he looked her up and down, his caution overcome by a sense of curiosity.

Shestood at two and a half feet, tall for her age.Determination was etched into her fair-skinned face, even as more tears rolled from her hazel eyes down her soot-covered cheeks. Brown hair framed her face messily. The young girl was dressed in riding boots and skirts, a short-sleeved blouse and a long-sleeved overcoat. They were also torn beyond recognition, but it was obvious they were well made. The girl was either a noble, or the daughter of a very rich merchant.

It was then that he noticed the girl's hands were bound behind her back with rope. He turned her around and unsheathed his dagger, using it to cut through her bindings. Her wrists were rubbed raw, which explainedthe continuing crying.Dashiel looked up as a thought occurred to him. Sure enough, he was standing next to a four-story building.

He cursed softly to himself; anyone could have been up there. He didn't need to ask what they were trying to do, dropping a girl from that building. Dropping babies from roofs wasn't beneath a lot of people, especially those who found that their prey was not worth as much as it should have been.

He turned back to the girl, studying her one more time. He could find some guards, give her in, and perhaps get her a home. Of course, he had also heard about the way Corus guards sometimes treated orphans, especially at this time of the night. Dashiel couldn't let himself leave the girl there. Given his line of work, instinctand past experiences both screamed that guards were not to be trusted. The girl stared at him with wide hazel eyes, a warrior spirit shining out of them, scared but determined.

"What's your name?" He finally asked her.

"Ke-" She struggled to speak, coughing from a throat caked with dust. "Keladry." Her voice was a mere croak.

"Keladry," he repeated the name, looking her in the eye. "Do you know where your mother is?"

She shook her head. "Mama said to wait for her outside. Then...then..." Either she couldn't find the words she wanted to say, or she couldn't manage to say them.

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"Yesterday. Then I couldn't see, then my wrists hurt, so I cried. Then I didn't have anything to eat. Then someone took me. I think I fell from somewhere." Her words were muddled and unclear, but well said for a three year old.

Dashiel nodded. "Keladry, do you know who you are?"

She looked at him oddly. "Keladry. But Mama and Papa and Anders call me Kel."

"Kel, are you a noble?"

The child obviously did not understand this question. Seeing the confusion on her face, Dashiel sighed. "I'm Dashiel. Do you want to come with me? I'll fix you up."

She nodded, trust slowly filling her eyes. With a smile, the king of thieves took that orphan girl home.

He'd originally had the intention to keep her for only a few days, until he could free himself or someone he trusted to help find her family.But - as most peoplehave experienced themselves - the Gods had a funny way of doing things, and nothing ever turned out the way one would expect it to.This particular time, a problem arose within the Rogue, and Dashiel had to deal with that before all else. By the time he was finally able to look for Kel's family, Kel herself had forgotten most of her past and was no help at all in the search.

As aforementioned and as Dashiel was about to experience over and over again, the Gods were very good at playing games with humans. Only a week after Kel had landed herself in his custody, posters were put up all over the city, inviting information on a missing girl with short brown hair and hazel eyes, who was presumed to have been kidnapped by some member of the rogue. Dashiel knew without having to try that there was no way to take the girl back now, not when she knew where he was and could tell the guards that this was the king of thieves they'd been looking for. It was obvious now that she was the daughter of someone very influential - a powerful merchant, maybe even a noble. He knew what would come of those presumed to have 'kidnapped' her and could he really trust a three-year-old to keep such a secret?

Days became months, and months became years. Dashiel, seeing the warrior in the little girl, raised her like his own and taught her the ways of the rogue. With him at her back, Kel was accepted into the court of the Rogue and knew her share of fighting. People who have dealt with three-year-oldsknow already how easily they forgetimportant things but hang onto small details; eventually, Kel forgot everything about her past and became one of the ladies of the rogue. On some level, even Dashiel forgot about her past and accepted her for the warrior lady and rogue she was turning out so quickly to be.


	2. Awakening

**Bet with Destiny**

**Thanks to all my reviewers!** And no, no WAY will Kel end up with Dash. Nu-uh. I am NOT setting her up with an OC.

**Important:** In a day, I will be changing my penname to **_Tuathail._**

**)O(**

She was a shadow; a shade of darkness 'black' didn't begin to describe.

She was swift, darting through the alleyways, able to make use of both ground and rooftop.

She was graceful, flawed enough to be considered perfect.

She was alone.

And she felt only a whisper of regret as the blue-glinting knife was plunged into a man's heart.

Calmly, she wiped the blood off the knife, careful not to leave a single stain on it. Her job for the night was done.

Taking a different route from the one she used to get there, the girl stole her way back home. She wasn't worried about being followed. Years and experience had taught her the much-needed skill of knowing immediately when she was followed.

She made her way home without any disturbances, glad to finally finish her day. She liked her job, but it never failed to leave a sour taste in her mouth. Coming upon the front entrance of her home, she decided against the front door and chose instead to enter the inn through a more discreet way.

She crept to the back of the inn, her padded feet making no noise in the night. Perhaps a little clumsily, the girl hoisted herself onto a four feet tall wall next to the building. She reached up, found a thick branch of a tree, and pulled herself onto it. Crawling along the branch, she eventually reached her open window and launched herself at the windowsill without a second thought.

She landed on the windowsill – maybe a little awkwardly – hopped off, and rolled to her feet. A sudden rush of air alerted her of another presence, but a knife was pressed to her throat before she could react.

"Dodgy, Kel." The knife relaxed a little, but still did not give her room for movement. "I could of sensed you comin' had I been deaf and blind."

She relaxed a little and smiled, knowing he was exaggerating but still slightly embarrassed. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Since you climbed that wall. Torches do cast shadows, you know." His voice was lazily amused, touched with a note of reprimand.

She cursed, her throat rubbing dangerously against the sharp edge of the knife. "I forgot about the torches on the side of the wall," she admitted sheepishly.

"You should have been more careful. You usually are." Blue eyes glinted in the dark.

"I know, Dash. T'was my room, but I guess I shouldn't have dropped my guard." She replied, a little defensive. "Speaking of, why are you in my room?"

"Lookin' for you." The answer was apparently obvious.

"Oh," she blinked. "Can we lose the knife? It's startin' to hurt."

The silver edge disappeared from her throat and she moved to light candles. It illuminated the face of Dashiel, her mentor and one of her best friends. Candles lit, she sat down on her small but comfortable cot.

"How was tonight?" He asked hesitantly.

"Same-same," she replied, narrowing her eyes in confusion. "You know I don't want to talk 'bout it."

"I know. Sorry. G'night." He closed the door lightly behind him, leaving her alone in her room.

As usual, she double-checked her three escape routes and made sure her window was locked properly. The second story of the Dancing Dove was about the safest place in the world, but she took no chances. Taking chances had gotten her trouble already that night.

That done, Keladry sat down on her bed to puzzle over Dash's sudden interest in her job. Her mouth curved into a smile as she remembered his face when she first expressed interest in being an assassin. Thieves and assassins did not sit well with each other, and in recent years assassins had declared themselves not part of the Rogue at all. His disbelief had turned slowly into reluctance, then acceptance. He taught her the lore of assassins, and trained her harder than she'd think possible.

She was always ready, and she never let anything get in the way of what she had to do.

Sleep came easily that night; she was tired, though why was beyond her. Her sleep was dreamless and peaceful, a striking contrast to her everyday life. She slept, and was content.

**)O(**

Here. A little cute pointless chapter. I had a long chapter, actually, and cut it in half, explaining this chappie's shortness and pointlessness.


	3. Bloom

**Bet with Destiny**

**)O(**

She woke up to the morning sun peering over the horizon, sending a wash of gold over the city. These mornings usually had an unpleasant tendency to be far too bright for her liking, but that day she didn't mind one bit. Keladry was in a cheerful mood.

She got up and dressed in simple breeches and a shirt. They weren't tight against her skin, yet only a fool would have missed the fact that they hid well-toned muscles. Her light brown hair – three inches below shoulder length – was plaited and then secured into a bun at the back of her head.

That done, Kel pulled on her boots and jogged downstairs to the practice yards. There were a handful of rogues awake and already practicing in the yards. They all nodded respectfully when Kel walked past. Being a little-sister figure to the King of Thieves, her job as an assassin was never accepted fully in the Court of the Rogue, but they had learnt to live with it.

She reached the cluster of punching bags in the middle of the courtyard. Grabbing a roll of bandaging, she roughly bound her hands as not to hurt them while training. Then, the brunette stepped up to the punching bags and threw her fists at them steadily, increasing her speed as she went. Her body fell into a relaxed but steady posture, her legs shoulder-width apart with slightly bent knees, and her stomach tight. Her breathing also fell into a pattern, matching the rhythm of her punching.

After her punching practice, Kel unbound her hands and got to work on her kicks. She sped through the front and side kicks, and then spent a little more time on the back ones, cursing her tendency to overbalance. After that, she moved to the flatter, horizontal kick pads, and worked on her axe and crescent kicks. Vertical kicking pads came next as she fired a series of turning kicks at them.

Next came weapons practice. Kel had tried and again to master some type of swordplay, but had had no success. In any case, commoners were forbidden to carry swords and her disregard for the law didn't stop her from not wanting trouble. Thus, she chose instead to avoid swords in general, whether it be short, long or two-handed. Instead, she wielded a halberd as her main combat weapon. She went through a few pattern dances with the weapon. The pattern dances were not uniformed, having been learnt from Rogues and not 'proper' teachers, but they were nonetheless deadly.

Keladry then unsheathed her daggers and practiced with them, both close-range and throwing. This was followed by archery, and throwing stars. Her arrows and throwing stars did not all reach the center of the bull's eye, but none missed by too much and only one failed to meet the target at all.

By then, the sun had risen and Keladry had worked up a sweat. She jogged to the back of the inn and grabbed a towel, then splashed cold water from the well onto her sweaty face and hair. More of the Rogue was up and about by this point, either practicing individually or sparring with each other.

"Good morning, Kel."

She turned, her arms automatically held up in a 'guard' position. Upon seeing who it was, she relaxed and smiled. "Morning, Dash."

"Are you up for sparring, or did those punchin' bags take it all out of ye?" he asked, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Those last jabs could've been deflected by newborn babes."

"They weren't that bad," she protested, then smiled. "As for sparring, I'm always up for it."

Their fellow rogues gathered around to watch with interest as they both assumed guard positions. Kel was one of the only people who could give Dash a run for his money. She had never beaten him, but not for lack of trying.

Dashiel started with a roundhouse kick, which Kel dodged, cursing his speed. She waited for his next move, always preferring to let her enemy lead the attacks. When his fist shot out, she knocked it out of the way and punched back. He blocked her punch, pivoting to swing her arm out of the way and following it up with a backwards elbow jab. Having seen it coming, Kel dodged sideways and attacked immediately with a spinning backfist. It caught the corner of his elbow as he retreated, but didn't hurt him.

He used the precious few seconds she took to straighten herself to his advantage, rushing her before she was composed. Kel blocked hurriedly, backing away despite herself. She was finally forced to throw out a back kick, just to keep him away for a few moments, before following through with a series of punches.

Dashiel knocked her arm down, and hooked his other hand around her elbow in an arm lock, holding her arm behind her back. She winced, as much from her straining muscles as from the fact that she had seen that one coming.

"Give up?" he asked, panting slightly.

"Yes." Had she not been bent over, he would have seen the mischievous glint in her eye.

The moment his hold relaxed, Kel attacked his knee with a grazing kick and turned around, straightening to face him. He swore.

"That wasn't fair."

"You taught me yourself; we don't fight fair," she replied, panting.

Dash gave a lopsided smile in amused resignation, and attacked again. Their fight carried on for another few minutes before he finally had Kel on the ground, panting and too worn out to throw him off. She was used to being beaten by him, but still couldn't resist a sigh.

He got up and she followed suit, moving to get cleaned and changed. She deliberated for a while between breeches and a dress; a man's clothing would provide her with comfort of movement, while a dress provided comfort of an entirely different sort. She went with the breeches, just in case.

Aglaia's porridge was horrid, as usual. Kel hid her grimace as she finished her breakfast and ran upstairs. She was dressed for a day in the marketplace, shopping and gossiping like any other commoner girls her age would do. And if she picked a few pockets?

Their loss.

**)O(**

AN: Is Kel becoming a Sue? Tell me if she is. And review, please. Concrit appreciated.


	4. Even Good People Die

Bet With Destiny, Chapter Three

AN: Lengthy chapter by my standards, to make up for not having updated for half a year.

)O(

It was an hour after sunrise, and the streets of Corus bustled with people. Stallholders were busy setting up as the earliest shoppers tried to find a good bargain. Kel blended in amongst them, looking like any other typical young girl buying her family's food for the week.

The old lady who sold charms smiled and waved at her as she walked past. She waved back to her long-time friend, eyeing her new stock with approval. It paid to be friends with the locals; she could get the best news, best gossip, and hear about another raid from the Provost hours ahead of time.

"Keladry?" the voice was young and timid. Kel turned to face a girl around the age of ten, dressed in a tattered brown shift.

"How did you know my name?" Kel asked, bending down to be on eye level with her.

"Everyone in the lower city knows you," the child told her. "Protector of the small, they say."

Kel shook her head with a smile over how silly even the most sensible people could be. In recent years, she had acquired a title as the "Protector of the small". True, she did try to protect the less capable of the lower city, running errands, helping them fend off raiders and trying to improve their financial standards. She had also been trying, with varying degrees of success, to convince other rogues to only steal from those richer than them; the poor didn't need more trouble than they already had.

_Helping is one thing, _Kel thought with resigned amusement._ A title like that is just silly._

"Why do you need me?" Kel asked the girl.

"It's old Rieno," she replied. "He's sick."

Kel – indeed, everyone in the lower city - knew old Rieno, a beggar in the slums of Corus. With barely enough money to get him through each day, the old man could definitely not afford healers. Sighing slightly, Kel let herself be led to the alley Rieno called home.

He was delirious, that much was obvious. He ranted about everything from rich banquets to the price of peas in Persopolis, all with a happy maniacal smile on his face. Closer examination told Kel that he probably had a bad fever due to gangrene from a nasty cut on his leg.

Kel was no healer, but she could tell when somebody needed one. Beckoning to the girl who had brought her, Keladry took out her moneybag and gave two silver coins to her. "Find a healer," she ordered. "This should be enough to get one, even comin' down here."

The girl nodded and ran off. Kel stood and left also, having no more business there. She was halfway back to the marketplace when she realized that the money she given away was supposed to buy food for the week. Cursing herself rapidly – Aglaia would be most displeased – Kel pondered what to do next. She wasn't exactly poor and could always go back for more money, but the smug look on Dashiel's face as he pointed out the disadvantages of being too helpful was enough to turn her off that idea. On the other hand...

One might have found it laughable that someone who had no qualms killing for a living would have a problem pick pocketing, but Kel had always found the job distasteful. An assassination target would die whether she was the one to administer it or not, she reasoned, but whoever's pocket she picked might not have to lose their money if she'd let them go by. She knew firsthand how hard money could be to come by sometimes; however, there was no way anyone could feel bad about stealing a bit of gold from the man passing her just then.

He was a boy, really; no more than seventeen years old, a squire in the colours of his master. A noble, then, whose moneybag was literally bulging with gold. Kel had no problems picking the pocket of nobles, because Gods knew most of them could afford to pay a bit more attention to the lower city.

She walked past him; even smiled modestly as she bumped into him 'by accident', muttering an apology and fluttering her eyelashes in the way of a girl who liked what she saw. In truth, he didn't look so bad, with his coal black hair slicked back and a pair of sapphire blue eyes. Still, the satisfaction she felt afterwards was the grim one of too easy a target, rather than the flighty one of having seen someone rather desirable.

It was only a few hours later, after Keladry had finished doing her shopping and was starting an interesting conversation with one of the new flower girls, that she realized who the squire had been. It was stupid of her not to realize immediately – the crown prince Roald of Conte wandered often into town, though admittedly this was the first time she'd seen him without a single guard. _So even a prince runs errands for his knight master, _she mused_. I would have thought it below them._

Feeling vaguely guilty for having stolen from someone she'd heard was a good person (but not guilty enough to do something about it), Kel gave it another few seconds of thought before turning back to her conversation.

---

Good people die sometimes, too.

That was the only thought she allowed herself as she accepted the new assignment, careful to keep her face blank as not to give her client any reason to doubt. She didn't know this target well, but he had often smiled at her as she passed by or offered her something to drink on a particularly hot day, and she couldn't see a single reason why anyone would _want_ to kill someone as harmless as him.

But no; it was not her place to question a client's reasons, and – as she reminded herself constantly – if she didn't do the job, somebody else would. Occupying her mind with these thoughts, Keladry snuck towards the given place and was disappointed for the first time she could remember to find her target exactly where he was supposed to be.

Night had only just begun to fall, but the streets were almost empty of people. It was nearly winter, after all, and nights got colder earlier each day. Kel bit her lip, and pulled out a dagger from her belt. She threw it towards the man, resisting the urge to squeeze her eyes shut.

Perhaps it was her reluctance to be doing this, or perhaps her focus was just a little off that night; the dagger pierced his right thigh but missed its intended target entirely. She cursed loudly, no longer needing to keep her presence a secret, and threw another dagger in his general direction.

This one found its mark all too well; with a dull thud, it planted itself into the man's chest, silver-blue glint of steel vanishing in an almost immediate flow of crimson. Keladry thought later that the worst thing about this kill was probably the look he gave her as he was collapsing, that split second of disbelief in an already fading brain.

As she pulled the dagger out of the dead man, she remembered to close his eyes for him, out of respect if nothing else. Knowing she couldn't afford to be distracted, she tried to focus only on getting home and not think too much about the kill. This strategy had gotten her halfway home before she heard the sound of someone's yell. Not sure if it was her business to interfere with, the decision was made for her when a man raced into the lane she was in, chased by two older men dressed entirely in black.

Instinctively, Kel hid behind a rather large cardboard box and almost cursed out loud when she saw who the first man was. There was no mistaking his dark hair and blue eyes, this time. What was he doing out alone at this time of the night? And what kind of _idiot_ could possibly accept the job of killing the crown prince? If this battle didn't kill them, the king of rogues was bound to. They may have been separate from the rogue court, but the Tortallan king didn't know that, and the death of his son would have been incredible incentive for him to track down and kill every rogue in lower Corus.

The prince drew his sword, a fine piece of work Kel might have admired had her brain not been working frantically. She was honor-bound not to interfere with the work of another assassin, but surely every rule was bound to change with circumstances? If they assassins did succeed, she didn't know what the king would do to the rogues in the city; she'd heard a rumor that he was more lenient than one would expect with them due to an old friend, but she somehow knew that the death of his son would change that drastically. That aside, the death of a crown prince always meant chaos and chaos was always a bad time for commoners.

Had she been given more time to think, she might have been able to come up with all the reasons against helping Roald as well, and left the situation well and alone. As it was, the prince cut down one of the assassins with his sword and ran, not realizing that the other one was aiming a throwing star at his back.

"Behind you!" Keladry yelled to the startled prince, who turned immediately and dodged out of the way. The assassin looked up and a flicker of recognition passed over his grey eyes. Kel cursed; if he knew who she was, she could be in some serious trouble. Before she could react, he had dived behind a door she didn't see was there, and she knew there was no point in pursuit. He would be long gone by now.

Not sure if she should be kicking herself for what she just did, Kel turned to leave. "Wait," said the prince, gasping from his fight with the first assassin. "Who are you?"

For a second, Keladry considered giving him a cryptic title that every mysterious woman seemed to have in the novels Aglaia loved to read, and add on an "I didn't do it for you" just to top it off. The second would even have been true. That moment passed and she was able to smile at her own folly: it would have been stupid to even let the prince see her face, much less say anything to him. Knowing that she'd caused more than enough trouble already, the girl turned and left without another word.


End file.
